Harry Potter and the Last Dance
by Angie Crawford
Summary: ~~~CHAPTER 6 UP!!!~~~Definitely H/H! Takes place in Harry's 5th year. How can Harry deal with his new feelings for Hermione? And how will he overcome yet another tragedy in his life? PLEASE R&R!!!
1. Another Tragedy

Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not JK Rowling. Sorry guys. Also, no copying my story, as it is MY property! Thank you.  
  
A.N. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, so I hope you like it! I've been reviewing on this site for awhile, so go ahead and feel free to review mine all you want! And here's something that will make some psychopaths happy: Flames are welcome! I like the brutal truth! Hope you guys all like it!  
  
Harry Potter and the Last Dance  
  
Chapter 1: The Tragedy  
  
The Great Hall was abuzz with the excited chatter of Hogwarts and its students. Students who, as a muggle might say, were not "quite right," or "abnormal." These students, children aged eleven through eighteen, were witches and wizards, and they were still in complete shock about the previous year, in which the evil wizard You-Know-Who had returned to power.  
  
In a lonely corner at the far end of the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter sat silently, his face a mask hiding his true feelings. It may have been, of course, that his face simply didn't know what feeling to let show through, because he was experiencing so many at the same time.  
  
First was worry, which Harry did so much lately he didn't need practice to hide it--he had gotten quite good at it over the past few months. He was worrying now, however, not over Voldemort's return or of his involvement with Cedric's death (which he had never really gotten over), but of his friends, Ron and Hermione. They had been called down to Professor McGonagall's office an hour ago during Potions, and by now Harry was wondering what had happened that called for such a drastic meeting.  
  
Secondly was--well, Harry wasn't sure what the second feeling was. All he knew was that it was mixed in with the worry. 'Shouldn't they be back by now?' he thought desperately, staring at the golden dishes in front of him. 'I mean, I can see where Ron might be getting in trouble for that Dungbomb he set off in the common room last night, but that was a last- ditch effort to get everyone out, even me and Hermione. I wonder what was so important--?' But then, of course, there was Hermione. 'Why would she get called down to McGonagall's office? She didn't do anything wrong, and if McGonagall says she did I swear I just might--'  
  
Harry broke off his train of thought. He didn't understand the third feeling either, which was anger. He was angry at McGonagall for making Hermione come with Ron. "But why?" Harry asked himself aloud, whispering. "Why do I even care?"  
  
"Care about what, Harry?"  
  
He jumped, looking up at the person causing a shadow to fall across his plate. It was Hermione, and she was smiling. "Afternoon," Harry said. "What kept you?"  
  
He noticed how, as she sat next to him, she deliberately avoided his eyes. "Oh, that. It was nothing, really. Professor McGonagall wanted to--" at this she paused, as if thinking. "She wanted to go over that assignment she gave us last week, you know, the one on giving a pig wings?"  
  
Harry nodded, though he doubted they had ever done that paper. No, there was definitely something else going on, something that was so horrible, probably, that no one wanted him to know. This only made him angrier, and he spoke his next sentence through clenched teeth. "Hermione, please, just tell me the truth."  
  
He blushed, embarrassed because his voice had cracked again, as it had the annoying habit of doing lately, especially when he was trying to be serious. Hermione, though, didn't seem to notice. She looked up, meeting his eyes, and it was then that he realized she had been crying. Even as he watched, a single tear found its way out of her eye, slowly winding its way down her cheek. Her voice, full of sympathy and sorrow, escaped her lips. "Oh, Harry--"  
  
Harry furrowed his brows as an all new feeling overpowered him-- dread. He had been right: something was horribly wrong. "What?" he asked, his urgency clearly visible in his voice.  
  
He watched as she swallowed, trying to calm herself down. "Harry--" she started, a fresh wave of tears starting to come, "Harry, it's Sirius."  
  
"What?" he asked again, now starting to panic. "What happened to him?"  
  
"Nothing," she answered. "That's the problem, Harry! Dumbledore was waiting for us when we got to Professor McGonagall's office. He hasn't heard from Sirius for days, and he got worried. Today he sent a few people to the cave where he had been living, remember it?" Harry nodded, his dread starting to be replaced by true fear. "He wasn't there, but there was--" At this Hermione completely broke down, sobbing loud enough to be heard at the Ravenclaw table, where several heads turned in their direction.  
  
Without thinking, Harry wrapped his arms around her, letting her cry into his shoulder and putting his hands behind her head gently. "Shh, Hermione," he whispered. "It's okay."  
  
At that Hermione raised her head, rubbing the tears away with the back of her hand and shaking her head. "No, it's not. Oh Harry, it's horrible! Dumbledore said--he said they found Buckbeak." She looked away from him then, as if too ashamed to continue.  
  
"Well," Harry reasoned, "that would mean that Sirius was just out, wouldn't it? He could've been anywhere, Hermione! Why are you so upset?"  
  
Hermione sniffled again, but seemed to gather enough courage to look at him. "Harry, Buckbeak--Buckbeak was dead when they found him. He had been murdered."  
  
  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! THANKS!  
  
LUV, ~ME~ 


	2. The Walk to Ancient Runes

Disclaimer: Okay, this is the last time I'm putting this up on separate chapters. If you want to know what I own and what I don't, look at the disclaimer on the first chapter. I think it will just be easier that way.  
  
A.N. Hey all! I'm back! Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first chapter, you guys rule! (LoL, as of now I've only had two reviews, but special thanks to ya: Wolf Cry and Draco's Princess!) Keep them coming, and as I said before, flames are welcome because I'm one of those strange people that actually enjoy being insulted! Please review everyone! Hope you like it!  
  
Harry Potter and the Last Dance  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
In the weeks that followed the fatal day Hermione had told Harry about Buckbeak, Hogwarts had slowly and steadily turned into a scene of terror and confusion. By now Professor Dumbledore had informed the students that "a terrible tragedy" had happened in Hogsmeade, and that students were, until further notice, "restricted from leaving the school's property, with special emphasis on the Forbidden Forest (as always) and Hogsmeade itself."  
  
At his words the Great Hall erupted into groans, and Harry's worst suspicions were aroused. In the cloud of chatter that had exploded, only one person at the Gryffindor table noticed Harry's mouth drop open and his spoon fall from his hand with a small clatter, and that was Hermione.  
  
"Harry--" she said, placing her hand gently on his. "Don't go up there."  
  
He looked at her, suprised but still distressed. A small, strained smile appeared on his lips. "You really know me too well, don't you?"  
  
Hermione smiled softly. "I just know that you always want the truth, and we both know there's something Dumbledore's not telling us."  
  
Harry had risen halfway out of his seat by then, but at her words he plopped miserably back down. "Hermione, I have to find out what happened to Sirius. If Buckbeak's dead, then--then I really don't want to think about what could've happened to him. I need to figure this out by myself. Maybe with Ron's help--"  
  
"What about Ron?" asked the red headed boy on the other side of Harry. "I don't seem to remember being invited into this conversation."  
  
"Ron!" Hermione groaned. "Just leave Harry alone. You know he has enough on his plate without you worrying him."  
  
"Wait, I asked for help, remember?" Harry interrupted, turning his attention to Ron. "You do know about, ah, Snuffles, right?" he asked, purposely using the nickname Sirius had asked them to call him in public. Ron nodded. "Well, I need to find out what happened. I have a feeling there may be something in that cave that no one accounted for when Snuffles moved in. Either that, or someone in Hogsmeade is helping Voldemort--"  
  
"Harry, please!" gasped Ron, wincing at the mention of Voldemort.  
  
"Sorry," Harry said automatically. "I have a feeling someone in Hogsmeade is helping You-Know-Who get rid of people that are protecting the school." His eyes shifted downwards once more to his plate. He knew very well that Voldemort probably couldn't care less about Hogwarts. No, it was what--or rather, who--that was inside Hogwarts that mattered to the Dark Lord.  
  
Ron was oblivious to Harry's words. "So, you're suggesting that You- Know-Who is trying to take over the school?" he asked. "It would be pretty easy, wouldn't it? I mean, Dad says any wizard with a fairly clever brain can get past the protection spells quickly enough, and You-Know-Who would have to be clever, because how could he have killed so many people otherwise? After all--"  
  
Harry and Hermione met each other's eyes sarcasticly, shaking their heads in disbelief. For someone that had been through so many predicaments in the past few years, you'd think Ron would be able to think outside the box a little easier. But no, he was simple-minded still, but to his friends it mattered not at all. They just liked watching him revel in his own little world sometimes.  
  
"Well, yes and no, Ron," Harry answered his fleet of questions, looking at his watch. "We'd better be off," he added to Hermione. "Ancient Runes starts in ten minutes."  
  
"See you in Charms, then," called Ron cheerfully from the table as he stuffed another piece of toast into his mouth.  
  
Once they were in the hallway, Harry and Hermione hurried up to the Gryffindor common room to gather their books for morning classes. "I'm so glad I dropped Divination," Harry told her as they began making their way toward the Ancient Runes classroom. "I felt bad leaving Ron at first, but I really was sick of having my death predicted every day."  
  
Hermione adjusted the way she was carrying her books before answering. "I don't blame you in the least," she huffed. "That woman! I'd bet anything she has never made more than a few true predictions in her life."  
  
"That is one bet you'd definitely win," Harry assured her. Then, seeing her struggling under the weight of her books, he reached out and picked up the top two, carrying them at his side with the rest of his own books. He had tried to act nonchalantly, but Hermione seemed to have noticed the way his hands were shaking as he picked up her books and the tiny smile on his face now that, the more he tried erasing it, the broader it became.  
  
He looked down at her, confusion apparent in his eyes (or so he feared). What he was feeling now was one of those feelings he couldn't explain--it felt like someone had just tied his stomach into knots, knots that grew only tighter when she looked up at him with a tentative little grin. "Thanks, Harry."  
  
Somehow, when spoken by her, those words took on a new meaning. He suddenly felt as though he would burst with joy--but instead he felt his face go scarlet and heard his voice, stuttering out something along the lines of, "It's no problem, really." In fact, Harry was so overcome with emotion that he didn't notice how red Hermione's cheeks had gotten, or how she was all of a sudden staring at her shoes as if they'd sprouted wings.  
  
A embarrassed silence passed between them and lasted until they walked into the Ancient Runes classroom, taking seats beside one another. Harry, cheeks still slightly pink, handed Hermione her books without a word. There was something in those books he wanted desperately for her to find--and at the same time wished he had kept it in his pocket, where it belonged.  
  
Hermione sighed, opening the first textbook up, far ahead of the page the class was on. 'Typical,' Harry thought. Then, with increasing horror, he watched as she lifted the book up a little, just barely moving it, but that was enough. A note fell out of the very back pages and floated to the floor as the professor entered the room. Hermione gave a small gasp of curiosity and picked the parchment up.  
  
Harry sighed in relief. At least the teacher hadn't found it. Then Hermione opened the letter, and Harry's heart skipped several beats. 'Stupid, stupid me," he cursed himself. 'I had to write her a letter. Oh God. I--I didn't sign my name, did I?'  
  
But, over the drone of another boring Ancient Runes lesson, he heard her gasp again. This time Harry did not look at her; could not look at her. He concentrated with all his might on the stack of books before him, but when he finally dared look up several minutes later, Hermione was watching him, a smile on her face.  
  
A.N. OK GUYS, SORRY I DIDN'T GET FARTHER. I WILL NEXT CHAPTER, I PROMISE!  
  
PLEASE REVIEW! THANKS!  
  
LUV, ~ME~ 


	3. Harry's Note

Disclaimer: OK, OK! I know I said I wasn't going to write this anymore but I changed my mind. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in my stories unless I later tell you otherwise. The plot is mine, so no copying my ideas in your story!  
  
A/N: Hey guys, I'm back. Sorry this took me so long but I had to wait until Saturday to write it because I had so much homework this week (I'm in eighth grade and my teachers get their kicks by watching teenagers stress out). Plus I haven't exactly had the best time the last few days. Anyway, this is the last chapter until I get 5 reviews. I've got 9 right now and two of them are mine so I'd really appreciate it if you guys took the time to review, even if you flame. Thanks and enjoy the story!  
  
Harry Potter and the Last Dance (A/N: I'm thinking about changing the title)  
  
Chapter 3  
  
All through the rest of Ancient Runes, Harry kept his eyes either locked on the professor or his desk. He couldn't risk looking over at Hermione again, because that would be--well, that would be too embarrassing to think about.  
  
It wasn't that he was afraid of what she would say--her smile when she read it had finally convinced him she wouldn't be completely freaked out--but it was more that he was terrified of what he would undoubtedly have to do next.  
  
The note, the same one that had fallen out of Hermione's book, was now lying facedown in front of her. Harry again cursed himself. He had written that letter just the week before, on some already half-forgotten night he had awoken from a dream. Just like that night itself, the dream was fading away, gradually drifting out of Harry's mind forever. He still knew, however, that whatever or whomever that had been with him in the nightmare had done enough to rouse him, his heart pounding furiously against his chest.  
  
He had been shaking, he knew, and had to use both hands to put on his glasses before he sprang out of bed. From a desk by the wall of his dormatory he had drawn out some parchment, ink, and a quill, and sat there. Anything after that was a ridiculous blur, one of those moments in a person's life they'd rather forget, either because of embarrassment or disbelief at their actions. Harry, of course, thought that this situation was a mixture of both, as his only memory still clear of that time was when Ron had shaken him awake the next morning.  
  
He, Harry, was slouched over the desk, his quill still in his hand and his head resting on the parchment. Later, when he read the letter he had written, his mouth had opened in shock but he had smiled, just the same.  
  
"Dear Hermione," it had read.  
  
"I don't know what I am doing right now or why I am sitting here, writing to you. I mean, I know why, I just--er, it's hard to explain.  
  
"It's probably sometime around midnight. At least it feels like that, like its only been a few minutes since I said goodnight to you and left the common room. But--I'm sure it has been much longer, because I was asleep, and I had another dream. I don't remember what it was about, only that it scared me very much--and it involved you.  
  
"Don't get all terrified now and tell me I should write to Sirius or go to Dumbledore--or the WORST, say I should go look up something in the library, because I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with Voldemort. It was a different type of fear, a kind that makes you feel ill when you're not. I don't know what it was because I've never felt it before, and that scares me.  
  
"And WHY am I writing this?!?! I can't believe I'm bothering you. I'm sorry, Hermione, if I worried you. Please just forget what I've said--I'm sure it's nothing, but I hope it's something. That will confuse you, won't it? Well, it's just that I'm not sure how to tell you my theory (YES, you can laugh now because I've actually thought about something long enough to develop a theory about it).  
  
"I don't know how you'll react, but you've probably already figured this out because of all my rambling, and it doesn't matter what I say now.  
  
"After I woke from that dream, I got up and sat down at my desk, my hands shaking from shock. I realized that I didn't like Cho anymore. Is that what normal dreams do? Mine are usually about Voldemort, so I wouldn't know. And then--then I realized something else, and knowing you I don't have to say anything more but:  
  
"All my love,  
  
"Harry."  
  
Now, thinking back upon that letter, Harry cringed. Maybe Hermione had been smiling because she thought he was mad, or worse yet, she thought it was a joke. He twirled his quill between his fingers nervously, gazing at his watch every few seconds and trying desperately to listen to the class, to no avail.  
  
When the professor finally dismissed everyone, Harry set off in a beeline to the Charms classroom. He didn't know why he was acting the way he was, but he did know he had to avoid Hermione at all costs. It wasn't really what he wanted to do, because what he wanted more than anything right now, besides sticking his head in a hole in the sand for the rest of his life, was to find Hermione and explain the letter. And maybe--maybe tell her his secret, the one he had hinted heavily at in his letter.  
  
He didn't hear Hermione coming until she was right behind him, and by then he knew it was to late to try and duck inside an empty classroom. "Harry," she said, practically running to keep up with him. Harry didn't answer, couldn't answer--he had lost his voice and his courage completely. "Harry!" This time she reached out and touched his arm. He froze, stopping so suddenly that Hermione slammed into his back. 'Great, Harry,' he thought. 'Now you have to go and have her walk into you.'  
  
Harry turned to face her, his cheeks now burning with the shame of running from her. He reached out and lifted her chin so their eyes met. "Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded. "I'm sorry I was ignoring you, it's just that I--"  
  
"No, Harry," she whispered, her eyes glittering with something like mischief. She took his hand in hers, pressing a piece of parchment into his open palm. "I'm fine, really."  
  
He blinked in confusion, closing his hand around the slip of paper. He tried to make his eyes ask what she was doing--it was obvious she hadn't wanted anyone to see her give him the note--but she only nodded at him, a slight smile on her face. "Come on," she said, the mischievious glint in her eyes growing. "Ron will wonder what happened to us if we're late." With that, Hermione brushed past him and continued on her way down the hall.  
  
Harry shook his head in disbelief, pocketed the paper, and turned to silently follow her.  
  
A/N: I know that not much took place during this chapter, but I'm trying to slowly introduce the story. It's just the way I write, and I'm sorry about that. Also, I'm trying to make the chapters longer but I'm in a hurry too. As it is, one chapter takes me an hour to write. Well, anyway, I hope this chapter cleared up any confusion about Harry's note--you'll learn next chapter why he put it in Hermione's book and what her note says, all that stuff. Hope you liked it, and as I said, I won't write the next chapter until I get 5 more reviews (sorry, I just need to get some feedback and figure out how many people are actually bothering to read this).  
  
LUV, ~ME~ 


	4. Potter and the Mudblood

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I am not J.K. Rowling, and please don't take my ideas. Thank you.  
  
A/N: You guys, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! PLEASE! I have no idea how many people are reading my story if you don't. And I've said it three times already-- even if you don't like my story, review anyway~~I take Hermione's advice on flames and anyone making fun of me: "Just ignore it." So, from a bookworm just like Hermione, here's my fourth chapter!  
  
Harry Potter and the Last Dance  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Harry Potter was confused. He sat there in the Charms classroom, Hermione's note in his hands. To his right, Hermione was engrossed in taking notes, writing down the incantations almost as fast as Professor Flitwick spat them out. Ron sat to Harry's left, his head on his books and his eyes closed. He was asleep.  
  
Slightly amused, Harry grinned and went back to the note, reading it for what seemed like the hundredth time.  
  
"Dear Harry," Hermione's neat writing stated.  
  
"We have to worry about Snuffles before we think about anything else. And you're right, I am worried about you now. Your dreams tell the future or the present, and they haven't been wrong yet! We need to talk. Tell me later what time we could meet in the common room.  
  
"Love,  
  
"Hermione."  
  
At the end of the letter Harry blinked, then sighed. He hated how he always blinked whenever he was suprised. But--what had Hermione been talking about? 'Wait, Harry,' a little voice inside his head announced. 'Look at the first sentence.' Harry's eyes drifted back up the parchment, and read, "We have to worry about Snuffles before we think about anything else."  
  
His mouth dropped open slightly, because for the first time he had caught the double meaning of Hermione's words. Did that mean--? 'No, it couldn't,' Harry thought in shock. This was too good to be true. If Hermione meant what he thought she did, then she felt the same way! She liked him!  
  
Of course, she had always liked him. To be friends with a person you can't be enemies to the core. It takes a lot of love. But never would he have been able to imagine the day when Hermione broke that sacred bond of friendship--or when he himself broke it for that matter--just to find out the if the feelings they had for one another were returned. Well, it at least sounded like she thought of him as more than a friend. Could it be true?  
  
Harry dared himself to glance over at her, and when he did, he saw her leaning one elbow on her books and staring straight at him, her eyes out of focus. Her quill dangled from her hand, forgotten, and the parchment in front of her was marked not with spells, as he had assumed, but with little hearts. Curious and with a sense of dread at seeing some other name (like Viktor Krum's) inside the hearts, Harry leaned over to get a better look.  
  
Hermione instantly snapped out of her thoughts at his sudden movement, and her hand jerked out from underneath her head so quickly the bottle of ink in front of her tipped over, sending a flood of color across her parchment. Harry suspected, by the way she immediately looked at him, that this was no accident, and again he wondered whose name it was inside those tiny hearts.  
  
During the next few days, as he avoided setting a meeting time with Hermione, Harry realized he would rather have not thought about the hearts at all, because every time he did he got a strange feeling in his stomach that would sometimes refuse to go away for hours on end. This was a problem that, try as he might, he couldn't cure himself of. Instead, he would lie awake in his dormitory, watching as the night sky changed from pitch black to grey, falling asleep only when the sun started to peek up over the trees of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Despite how much Harry loved lying awake until dawn thinking only of-- 'Well, I think of a lot of things, not just....her'--he knew it couldn't go on. He had been getting less and less sleep as time wore on, and it was starting to affect his studies. Even Snape had noticed he hadn't been up to par, though he announced his diagnosis with all of the other Gryffindor and Slytherin fifth years listening.  
  
"Pehaps," Snape had said coldly, his oily hair falling across his face, "Mr. Potter thinks staring at his girlfriend is more important than learning how to correctly mix the ingredients in a Morphing Potion."  
  
Upon the sudden cackling laughter of the Slytherins Harry blinked, his eyes refocusing on what (or more like whom) he had been staring so intently at.  
  
It was Hermione, blushing from Snape's comment but trying ever so diligently to get back to her work. With a small spark of delight, Harry noticed she kept glancing in his direction. 'Maybe,' he thought hopefully. 'Just maybe.'  
  
Snape wasn't through with him yet, however. He swooped down upon Harry with the equal viciousness of an owl chasing its supper. "Mr. Potter," he sneered once more, "tell me how to change your most incorrect green potion--a very serious mistake, I might add--to purple."  
  
Harry stared straight at Snape, trying not to blink or show any fear. 'Think of Buckbeak,' he reminded himself. 'This is just like Buckbeak.' He wasn't suprised when, at the thought of the poor hippogriff, his resolve not to blink only grew. "I don't know, Professor."  
  
Snape smiled, a cruel, hard smile. "Well, it seems fame STILL isn't everything, doesn't it, Mr. Potter? On lucky chances you have survived the Dark Lord throughout the years, yet what do you truly know about magic?"  
  
The room was silent, but Harry could hear a strong buzzing in his ears. He knew he shouldn't even be listening to Snape, but somehow he couldn't help it. Beside him, he saw Hermione stiffen. Ron's jaw was clenched tightly together, and his right hand was on his wand. "I know more than you do," Harry said, so softly he was sure no one else could have heard him.  
  
"Excuse me?" was Snape's response.  
  
"Nothing, it was noth--"  
  
Before he could stop her, Harry watched as Hermione stood quickly, facing the professor. "He said he knew more about magic than you do." It was a fact, plain and simple, though Harry was sure he had never heard her voice go so deadly calm in all the time he'd known her. He marveled at her, the way she stood at that moment, head held high. Then he smiled as he watched her face. She wasn't blinking.  
  
Snape, on the other hand, seemed to be in shock. He had probably never had a student stand up to him with such force as Hermione was doing now. "He said he knew more about magic than you do," she repeated, her eyes glinting fiercely at him, "and I believe him."  
  
Harry blinked, seemingly for the first time in minutes. He couldn't understand why Hermione was standing there, defending him. "Hermione!" he hissed. "It's okay, leave it be!"  
  
Snape turned his angry glare at Harry, pulling out his wand in one smooth movement. Just as he felt his insides turning to ice, Harry heard a loud popping sound. The next second Dobby the house-elf was clinging to his robes, yelling loudly. "You must not speak to Harry Potter like you did, sir! Dobby is Harry Potter's friend! Dobby will save his Harry Potter!"  
  
With a loud crack, a shelf in the back of the dungeon collapsed, letting several nasty specimens of creatures slime their way across the floor. Snape whirled about, snarling at the problem. "Elf!" he yelled, his eyes dangerously shining. Dobby just nodded at Harry, and with a loud pop disappeared once more. "All right," Snape grumbled. "Get out of here--class dismissed."  
  
As soon as they were in the main hall, Harry turned around to Hermione. "Why did you do that?" he asked.  
  
He noticed she was looking at her shoes again, her face crimson. "I don't know, Harry," she said quietly. "I just--I just got mad. He has no right treating you like that!" With those words she stared him straight in the eye, leaving Harry stammering and trying to respond.  
  
"Her--Hermione, I'm really sorry about--about how I haven't, er, answered your note," he finally burst out. Now it was his turn to study the floor. 'I seem to be doing a lot of this lately,' he thought, disgusted with himself.  
  
Hermione just gave him an odd half-smile, and it was obvious she didn't intend for it to be there. "It's okay," she said softly, her mouth straightening at last.  
  
"No," Harry replied forcefully. "It's not, and I really am sorry. I just--er, well, I've been--avoiding you lately, I guess."  
  
This time she grinned playfully. "So I noticed."  
  
He winced. "You did?"  
  
"Of course," she told him deviously."You didn't think I spent all my free time in the library, did you?"  
  
Harry said nothing, because he knew that if he did chances were Hermione wouldn't speak to him for a while and he didn't think he could handle that at all. He liked the way she was grinning right now, though. It occured to him he hadn't seen her truly smile in a long time. It made him feel especially proud to know it was he that made her face light up like that--and he hadn't even been trying to be funny. 'Maybe,' came the thought that so often scrolled across his thoughts lately. 'Just maybe.'  
  
After quite some time of walking along in silence Harry gathered up enough courage to speak. "Er--Hermione?" His brain momentarily froze when she met his eyes but he forced himself to continue. "If you still need to talk--I mean, if you want to--could you meet me tonight?"  
  
He was blushing madly, and he knew it, but that was nothing compared to Hermione's response. Her eyes widened in suprise and she seemed to take an eternity before answering, smiling her brillant smile. "Of course, Harry. I'll be there all night catching up on homework. What--what time can you make it?"  
  
Harry panicked. He hadn't thought of this. "I--er, I mean--uh--"  
  
"How about after it's empty?" she interrupted.  
  
His mind numb with happiness, Harry could only nod.  
  
From a nearby doorway, a certain Ginny Weasley had been watching the conversation. She was upset, but not nearly as broken-hearted as she'd thought she would be. It was obvious what had just happened, after all. It didn't matter that she couldn't hear over the noise of the crowded hallways- -by the way they both were acting, Ginny knew, and told the next person she saw. Unfortunately, that person was Draco Malfoy.  
  
Within a half-hour, whispers surrounded Harry and Hermione as they walked from class to class, passed along on the backs of Slytherins, whom Harry least liked to contend with.  
  
"Potter's going out with the Mudblood."  
  
A/N Like it? Hate it? REVIEW, PLEASE! At least I didn't end this chapter with another letter! I was going to add--er, something important to the plot, but I didn't have enough time. So--while I'm typing the next one up, same deal as last time, guys. I need five reviews before continuing (sorry, but it really is important for me to know people's opinions on my story). THANKS FOR EVERYONE WHO HAS ALREADY REVIEWED! I GOT 8!!!!! :)  
  
LUV, ~ME~ 


	5. Falling for Hermione

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, just the plot (which is pathetic).  
  
A/N:This might be my last chapter. I don't know yet, though.  
  
Harry Potter and the Last Dance  
  
Chapter 5 (I think it is but I lost count, lol)  
  
By the time Harry retreated into the boy's dormitory that night, he was utterly exhausted from discouraging the rumor about he and Hermione. In truth he was flattered, but he knew he should deny it--if not for anything else, then for Hermione's sake.  
  
Harry sighed just thinking about her and, suprised at his sudden rush of emotions, thought back to their hallway conversation earlier. She was going to meet him that night! He grinned to himself, blushing from excitement at the same time. 'I wonder what she wants to talk about?' he puzzled. 'Nah, who cares? She's--wonderful, and she's meeting with me tonight!'  
  
Just then, a knock at the door brought Harry back to the present. "Oy! Harry!" Ron called. "Unlock the bloodly door and let me in, will you?"  
  
Harry scrambled off his bed and pulled back the lock on the door, stepping back just a moment before Ron threw it open, banging it against the wall. His hair was tousled and, Harry noted, he had a sort of crazed look in his eyes. "Ron?" he asked tentatively. His friend was now just standing in the middle of the room, watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.  
  
"Harry--" Ron started at last, his eyes still holding that odd gleam. "You--and Hermione--"  
  
At the mention of Hermione, Harry understood. "No," he stated sharply. "It's not true, no matter who you heard it from!"  
  
Suprisingly, Ron looked disappointed. "Oh," he said. "Well then. I guess I sure misinterpreted things, didn't I?"  
  
Harry grinned. "You and everyone else at Hogwarts! I mean, me and Hermione aren't dating, isn't that obvious?" he demanded. "And anyway," he added with a blush, "we don't like each other like that."  
  
Ron grimaced. "Oy. You go ahead and think that, Harry." He then turned and walked out of the room without another word.  
  
"Ron!" Harry yelled, running to catch up with him. "What do you mean? Ron--"  
  
He fell silent as he ran straight into someone in the common room. He and the person toppled over, sprawling out on the floor in a heap. Harry was the first to disentangle himself, and as he stood up he held out a hand to Hermione, who was unfortunately the person he had knocked over.  
  
She gratefully took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. It was then, standing there, that he noticed just how close they were. Hermione must have realized this as well because her face went a dark shade of magenta and she glanced away for a second, but met his eyes again almost immediately. Harry just stood there, gazing into her eyes and trying his very best not to look away, even for the briefest expanse of time. Finally he managed to choke out an apology (with much stuttering and blushing on his part), but Hermione remained silent, her eyes searching his.  
  
It might have been an extremely romantic moment, especially when Hermione whispered, a sweet smile on her face, "You really should watch where you're going, Harry."  
  
Harry gulped inwardly at her stare, but grinned just the same. "Er--yeah, well, you know me. Never paying attention."  
  
He felt his insides melt when she laughed lightly, shaking her head just enough to show her disbelief of his statement. 'Does she even mildly realize how much I love her?' Harry thought desperately. He knew he would have to do something, whether it be walk away or--well, something more suited to Valentine's Day (even though it wasn't February 14 at all).  
  
Then he noticed once again how close they were. Quickly Harry made up his mind, closing the few inches left between them. To his joy, Hermione made no attempt to stop him. He leaned down, careful to maintain eye contact--he didn't think he could live without those eyes. She looked up at him, and he moved in those final cenimeters...  
  
It was not as he had planned, however, because just as he closed his eyes, Ron came over to see what was wrong. "Harry? Hermione?" he asked. "I just saw you fall and--" Ron stopped as he looked from one beet red face to another. "Er--"  
  
Harry tried to regain his composure. "It's all right, Ron," he said, hoping his voice sounded casual yet knowing it didn't. "What's wrong?"  
  
By now their friend was displaying a rather large grin. "Oh, nothing. It wasn't important."  
  
For a moment everyone stood around awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say next. Personally, Harry was far too embarrassed to look at the other two and decided instead to occupy himself by hoping he would wake up from this nightmare soon. 'I can't believe it,' he thought. 'What POSSESSED me to try to kiss her?!'  
  
It was Ron who broke the silence. "Well then. I--er--have to go and--oh, never mind." He turned and walked out the portrait hole at a speed unusually fast.  
  
Hermione stepped over to Harry, and once more their faces were mere inches apart. "Don't forget to meet me tonight, right Harry?" she whispered.  
  
Harry nodded, a small, unsure smile creeping across his face. Hermione leaned over and gently kissed his cheek before heading up to the girl's dormitories.  
  
Exactly how long he stood there, his hand over the spot where her lips had been, Harry never figured out. All he knew was that, for a time, he was not The Boy Who Lived. He was an average teenager--an average, wizard teenager in love.  
  
A/N: Sorry that was so short, guys! Turns out this chapter was pretty much pure fluff. Sigh. I love it, but I had wanted to add more of the plot in this one. SO, here's the deal: I'm not done with this story yet, though I personally stinks worse than dog you-know-what on a hot summer day. Hehehe. Well, I'd love you to review. Really, that's what keeps me going--and it's the reason I haven't updated in a while because I only got 3. Doesn't matter how many I get though, and as always, flames are welcome!  
  
LUV, ~ME~ (PS THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LONGER I PROMISE!) 


	6. A Single Red Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's characters! Geez, if I have to say that one more time---!!!!!!  
  
A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!!!! Seriously, I got so many good reviews I've decided to make this the best chapter yet (and if it isn't--well then blah). If it's horrible, please forgive me but since I am only 14 and have yet to be kissed, I have no idea what it feels like.  
  
Harry Potter and the Last Dance  
  
Chapter 6  
  
Harry didn't go up to the dormitories that night. Instead he sat on a couch in the common room, watching the fire blazing in front of him and trying to ignore Fred and George Weasley's taunts.  
  
"Oh Harry, I just love you so much--I think I'll give you a little kiss on the cheek!" Fred batted his eyelashes, speaking in a squeaky impression of Hermione.  
  
Harry knew he was turning red, most likely from embarrassment, though he decided to show them his anger at their remarks. "SHE DID NOT SAY THAT!" he roared at the twins. They took a step back, shocked, and the entire common room fell silent.  
  
It didn't take George long to recover from his suprise, however, and he glanced at Fred, grinning. "Aw, Harry has a little crush!"  
  
Red as a tomato, Harry stepped up to the twins and hissed, "Would you like me to personally shove some Canary Creams down your throat?"  
  
Fred and George didn't take this as a threat--instead, they laughed. "Why George, dear brother," remarked Fred in a superior tone of voice. "I reckon you're correct in your theory--" at this point he became serious, "--so how many Sickles do I owe you?"  
  
Harry's jaw dropped, much to the amusement of the twins, and even as he sat back in front of the fireplace he could still hear their comments ("Oy, Fred! Don't you have enough? It's a scam; I knew you wouldn't pay, just like Bagman!")  
  
Sometime around midnight the twins abandoned the common room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts (he ignored the group of third years giggling and playing some muggle game called "spin the bottle"). 'Oh God,' he thought at last. 'I have to tell her--I can't keep stalling like this!'  
  
Reluctantly, Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his wand. Within seconds, he had produced a single red rose out of thin air. Standing up, he spoke to the fireplace, deep in concentration. "Hermione--I-I wanted to--ah, no! That's no good!" he told himself, pacing back and forth. By this time even the third years had given up and gone to bed. "Hermione, I made this for you--no! That's worse!" He looked at the rose in his hands, twirling it around curiously. Suddenly he spoke. "Hermione, this is for you. I wanted to give you something, and--"  
  
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said softly, reaching her hand over his and touching the flower. Harry jumped. 'How can she sneak up on me like that?' he demanded silently.  
  
"Oh--er, here," he stuttered, handing her the rose. "I just--I just thought--"  
  
"It's beautiful, Harry," she whispered, smiling her sweet smile at him. He looked up at her, noticing something odd in her voice. Her eyes held a faraway, almost nervous, look in them, and she kept glancing at the ground.  
  
"Hermione?" he whispered, and as she looked up, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. It was just a quick little kiss, but when Harry pulled away he gave her a sheepish grin and she blushed.  
  
They seemed to stand there, grinning at each other, for the longest time before Hermione spoke. "Well, er, we should probably try to figure out what happened to Sirius." Sirius. At the mention of his name, the joy pounding through Harry's brain seemed to disappear instantly.  
  
"Er, right," Harry said automatically. "Well--Dumbledore isn't telling us something, we know that."  
  
"Not really," Hermione replied. "He could be telling us everything--but I do agree with you. So, do you have any ideas?"  
  
"We could ask Dumbledore again," Harry suggested. "He might be willing to help us now."  
  
Hermione nodded. "That would be a good idea. We need a backup plan, though, because somehow I doubt very much Professor Dumbledore will tell us the whole story."  
  
Harry said nothing for a moment, and when he finally spoke he met her eyes. "We could go to Sirius's cave and see for ourselves what's there--I mean, I could go by myself--"  
  
Hermione put a hand a Harry's arm, and he smiled inwardly. "No, Harry. I'll come with you. I bet even Ron will help, if you just ask."  
  
He grew solemn. "Hermione, Ron's been--well, I think he's been avoiding me lately."  
  
"No he hasn't," said a voice inside the fireplace. Harry gasped--it was Sirius, or rather, Sirius's head.  
  
"Sirius!" Harry and Hermione said at the same time. "What are you doing here?" Harry hissed, angry that Sirius was once again jeopardizing his safety for Harry.  
  
"Same deal as last time, Harry," he said. "I broke into a wizarding house. I don't have much time here."  
  
"But--" Hermione broke in. "We thought you were--"  
  
"Dead?" he questioned. "No, though it was a close call. I used the same spell I am now to make myself appear here--thank God only Ron was up at the time."  
  
"Wait," Harry said. "So the reason Ron's been avoiding me is because he's been helping you?"  
  
"Yes," Sirius replied. "And I might've given him some advice on, er, homework." He emphasized the word "homework" very strongly, and Hermione jumped up.  
  
"Oh, that reminds me! I have to go get my quill to plan this out with," she said, rushing up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry looked at Sirius curiously, and Sirius laughed.  
  
"Just like Lily. I knew that would get her out of here!" At his words Harry gave him a hesitant smile.  
  
"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked.  
  
"Hermione," Siruis stated simply. Harry blushed, looking at the floor. "You really like her, don't you?" he asked, almost like a father would.  
  
Harry nodded. "I think it's more than "like." I mean, it's not like my obsession with Cho. I think--Sirius, I think I love her."  
  
Sirius's face suddenly looked panicked. "Harry, I think the family's coming back. I've got to go."  
  
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed. "What should I do?"  
  
He met Harry's eyes for a brief second. "Follow your heart." With a small pop, his head disappeared.  
  
Just then, Harry heard Hermione running back into the common room. "Sorry it took so lon--" she cut herself off when she saw the empty fireplace. Harry looked over at her.  
  
"The family came back to their house. He had to leave."  
  
"Oh," said Hermione. "Well at least we know he's safe."  
  
He nodded. "Yes. I think he'll start sending owls again soon. At least, I hope so--he gives good advice."  
  
She looked puzzled. "What do you need advice on?" she asked.  
  
Harry shrugged, grinning a little. "Most everything. Quidditch, school, my parents--and this." Once more, their lips met, but this time the kiss lasted longer, as though each of them were releasing emotions bottled up and hidden for years. 'Of course it's like that,' Harry thought, his heart racing as Hermione put her arms around his neck. 'I've loved her forever.'  
  
When they pulled away, Hermione met his eyes, staring at him uncertainly. "This is Sirius's advice?" she asked, blushing slightly.  
  
"He told me to follow my heart," Harry said softly. "So I did."  
  
A/N: Can you say FLUFF! Honestly, I'm suprised at myself. Sorry if this isn't romantic enough for you guys--I had to fit the plot in somewhere. But at least THEY FINALLY KISSED! Yay! Hope you all liked it--I tried my best. Next chapter will probably be the last. Thanks for reading, and please review!  
  
LUV, ~ME~ 


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